Countenance So Beloved
by Icha
Summary: A few weeks before Jane Austen’s death, she received a visitor from her past. SPOILERS and deliberate spin off from ‘Becoming Jane’.
1. An Old Acquaintance

**Countenance So Beloved**

**By: Icha**

**Rate: K**

_Summary:_

_A few __weeks before Jane Austen's death, she received a visitor from her past. SPOILERS and deliberate spin-off from 'Becoming Jane'. Notable gratitude for Rachel Kingston for the great beta (I mean it. She's great! And this is her first beta attempt, imagine!)._

_Disclaimer:_

_I do not claim to be an expert of Jane Austen at all. My passions towards her and her works were just ignited after my recent viewing of 'Becoming Jane' the movie. Hence, the creation of this one-shot fanfic, and as it is named, it is 'only' a fan-fiction for all to read. But for me, it is a tribute to Jane Austen and Tom Lefroy, and their leading actor/actress, Anne Hathaway and James McAvoy. Reviews are very much welcomed, but please refrain from bashing me if you disagree with the premise (and please REVIEW me if you agree with the premise). My language and dictions are, of course, not a resemblance of Austen's 18__th__ and 19__th__ century styles, and I duly noted my insufficient understanding of British culture in the dawn of 19__th__ century. _

-xxx-

'…_there could have been no two hearts so open,_

_no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison,_

_no countenances so beloved…'_

'_Persuasion', chapter 8, __Jane Austen _

-xxx-

**Chapter 1. An Old Acquaintance**

_End of June,__ 1817_

From her bed, she looked out the window to catch a glimpse of the tranquil, bright Winchester morning. She coughed a few times and then sighed, wondering how it would feel to finally be released of her relentless pain. It would be such a relief, despite the ghastly thoughts of leaving some manuscripts unfinished. She reached for water, sipped it and glanced at a stack of paper on the nightstand. She smiled. _It is such blessings that this one is finished,_ she thought,_ thus I can leave in peace…_

The door knocked twice and, without waiting for her permission, opened. Henry Austen stood in the doorway, his lips smiled but his eyes showed his apparent solicitude.

'Henry…' she cheerfully exclaimed despite her condition.

'Jane,' Henry walked in a few steps, entering Jane's immaculate sick chamber. 'I trust you are in a better condition today?' A rather vain hope, for Jane Austen would not have stayed in Winchester if there had been real hope of recovery.

'The best I can hope for a nice summer afternoon,' Jane kept the smile. 'Should you not be returning to London soon?'

'Am I not allowed to extend my visit, dear Sister?' Henry sat down by Jane's side and scrutinised his sister with his concerns. 'Cassandra is not here at the moment, so just consider me your aid. After all, you are still the most agreeable person to talk with after Eliza's departure.'

Showing her sympathy, Jane Austen reached for her brother's hand; the very hand which in its youth used to hold and tease her but now presented itself with wrinkles and signs of age. She looked this middle-aged man directly in the eye and saw such longing, a deep longing for his beloved wife, Eliza De Feuillide, who filled both of their minds with delightful memories of the times they had shared together.

'I missed her as well, Henry. But –' she tweaked another smile. 'Do you not think that at any rate I will be visiting her soon? I will be sure to send her your regards.'

Henry should have been used to his sister's rather terrible jests by now. But still, he could not bear it. 'Jane! Such unthinkable thought! How many times have I begged you not to say such a thing?! The doctors in Winchester are doing their best to help you. And you will be just fine before long, you will see. We shall attend the opera again, and I shall be listening to your reading once more…'

Witnessing her brother's pleading wrenched Jane's heart. She forced a better smile this time and tapped Henry's hand several times. 'Now… now… what did I say about happy thoughts? They will do you good, dear Brother.'

'Only if you stop speaking of terrible notions, Jane. Only if you do so.' They exchanged fond glances before he resumed, 'Now then. I have not yet been entirely honest with you –' he smiled to notice Jane's quirking her eyebrow. 'You have company, waiting outside.'

'Is that so?' she proclaimed. 'Then, why did you leave her…him…outside? Do let them in.'

Despite his sister's approval, Henry did not act upon it at once. Instead, he fidgeted with Jane's fingers in such a way that started to irritate her.

'Henry. Brother! What is it?' she inquired. 'It is exceedingly rude to have your friend waiting outside.'

'Yes, darling, but our friend is –' he hesitated, '– from Ireland. Dublin. Rather too far a place, I understand.'

It took Jane several minutes to overcome her shock, thoughts flooding her mind, before she murmured, 'Do you think that I shall forgive you this time?'

Henry nodded, 'Naturally. It is a truth universally acknowledged for such a delicate case. After all, you did forgive Eliza and me in London.'

'That was…unavoidable,' Jane squinted. 'And Eliza is not here now, so do not place her in your excuse. Good gracious, may she rest in peace.' Her inquisitive gaze caused Henry to continue,

'I actually did not think of bringing him here. I met him in London on my way here. He was on a business trip, you see, and he said that he would drop by –'

'Such nonsense!' Jane waived a hand. 'Just admit that you orchestrated this.'

'I did not. For the love of my dear Eliza, my actions are innocent. I met him by pure chance in Mayfair and, upon him enquiring after you, I spoke very little of your condition.'

'Of which he further explored, considering his detecting ability as a prominent lawyer,' commented Jane, with a tone of annoyance. She shook her head. 'I do not think I could let him see me in such a condition.' After contemplation, she added, 'He would find me quite distasteful.'

Henry Austen sighed and ceased his sister's hands. 'Jane…dear Jane. We are… we are older now…does it matter how we look? And why do you not let him decide how unattractive you are upon seeing you?' Upon detecting her reservations, he added, 'After all, it is but a typical social visit to wish you a better health, is it not?'

Jane's dark eyes pierced her brother's with such intensity before she replied, 'I honestly do not know, Brother. Why do you not let him in and we will find out?'

Upon her brother's leave, Jane asked her nurse, Martha, to assist her in changing into her more finer dress and help brush her hair. Her hair was not the thick, lavish dark tresses it used to be; her deteriorating health had reduced its glow. However, a lady must look presentable under all circumstances, and certainly Miss Austen did not wish to look remotely unattractive in the presence of her guest-to-be.

Martha had just finished fixing the last hair pin to Jane's greyish hair when the door knocked again. This time, knowing that Henry would not enter unless permitted, Jane said, 'Do come in!' almost inaudibly. Martha had to help her by repeating the words, for apparently Jane could not muster the strength for a second attempt.

A beam of sunlight brightened the room through the half-opened window as the door opened. Henry Austen re-entered the room with a different, almost respectful, manner and announced,

'Dear Sister, we have company. Late as ever.'

Subsequently, Henry entered further, making room for the visitor. A rather tall middle-aged gentleman gracefully approached. He was wearing a handsome black suit, towering hat and bearing an air of importance without noticeable effort to appear so. The man took off his hat to reveal his greyish hair and wrinkled face and, upon seeing her, froze in his step, almost unable to speak. After a moment of hesitation, he uttered solemnly,

'Miss Austen. How kind of you to receive my presence in such short a notice.'

Jane had to focus all her energy to refrain from trembling as she spoke, 'Mr. Lefroy. Not a trouble at all, Sir. In fact, it is very kind of you to drop by to see an old acquaintance such as I am.'

Thomas Langlois Lefroy smiled gravely as he brought himself closer. 'The pleasure is mine, Miss Austen. The pleasure is entirely mine.'

-xxx-

The man had travelled at least 60 miles from London to Winchester '…just to see an ill friend after business in the capital, _en route_ to Southampton' as he had claimed.

'Truthfully, your brother's explanation was rather disturbing.' explained Tom Lefroy later as he sat down on the sofa in Jane's soft-white chamber.

'Ah, your friend might be exaggerating, Mr. Lefroy,' smiled Jane as she wrapped her shawl tighter to make herself more comfortable. 'I assure you, I will be just fine in no time.'

'And you are still in need of residing in Winchester for health?' The prominent Irish lawyer doubted her honesty on this matter. 'Miss Austen, you must do your utmost to convince me of your good condition.' Martha offered some tea and then left. Mr. Lefroy thanked her, took the tea and sipped it. 'And that you are taking care of your own health, for that matter.'

Jane softly smiled. 'I assure you, Mr. Lefroy, that I am doing everything in my ability to get better.' She also took a cup, yet she did nothing with her tea other than cupping it with her hand, trying to absorb the warmth. A few moments of complete silence passed between them; fixed gaze upon each other; overwhelming thoughts and feelings flooding their mind and soul, both eagerly trying to make sense of this emotive reunion. Noticing the palpable discomfort, Henry took initiative and asked the news of Lady Mary Paul Lefroy and their children.

'Oh, they are in fine, perfect condition,' said Mr. Lefroy, referring to both siblings. 'Nothing to complain, really. Anthony, the oldest, has been seriously considering a career in law.' He chuckled. 'He still thinks it an easy option.' Henry also gave a small laughter and was about to ask of Mr. Lefroy's business in London when Jane spoke up.

'And how is your eldest daughter? I trust that she is fine?'

'Jane?' Tom Lefroy tilted his head to the lady of the room. His face lit up at the acknowledgement of his eldest daughter, Jane Lefroy. He smiled. 'She is lively as ever. She was delighted to learn that I might be visiting you in England. She also asked of your latest work. Are you in the middle of writing another novel? When might she be able to read it?'

Jane exchanged a poignant look with her brother before replying, 'She might not need to wait for long, Mr. Lefroy. I have just finished my last novel.'

Resisting the temptation to mentally translate 'last' as 'latest' or 'newest', Tom inquired, 'Would you be so kind as to share with me the plotlines?'

'Oh… I do not know, Tom,' said Henry abruptly. 'My sister needs sufficient rest these days.'

'It is alright, Brother,' interrupted Jane. 'I feel fine today; I might like to read some passages for Mr. Lefroy.' Upon Henry's look of scrutiny, she smiled and reassured him once more. Indeed, her complexion was more alive since the arrival of her guest.

'Read?' Tom tilted his head. 'Am I to assume that you have the manuscript with you?'

Jane nodded and asked for Henry to bring her the stack of paper she had laid on the nightstand. 'It is very fortunate that both of you are here today, I have wanted to read some passages myself.'

'Are you sure you are strong enough for this, Jane?' Henry probed once more. 'Of course, it is not that I do not want to hear you reading.'

'No, I'm just fine, my dear. Rest assure, for you could always take over the reading if I am tired. Or –' she glanced rather affectionately at Tom Lefroy, '– Mr. Lefroy here would not mind doing so, I gather. Reading some of the passages, I mean.'

Detecting an element of cheerfulness in her otherwise frail body, Tom felt his spirit awakened. 'Of course. Contrary to the general opinion, we lawyers were taught how to read as well, you know. I would be truly honoured, Miss Austen.'

And in that instant, flashes of memories charged the minds of Jane Austen and Tom Lefroy. Memories of their past and of their first acquaintance over twenty years ago. Memories of letters, books and passages. Of dances, banters and cricket play. Of laughter and cries. Of joy and sadness. Of love.

-xxx-

'_He Captain Wentworth was, at that time, a remarkably fine young man, with a great deal of intelligence, spirit and brilliancy; and Anne an extremely pretty girl, with gentleness, modesty, taste, and feeling. – Half the sum of attraction, on either side, might have been enough, for he had nothing to do, and she had hardly any body to love; but the encounter of such lavish recommendations could not fail.__'_

Their first meeting had been inside Jane's house in Steventon, Hampshire, when he had abruptly entered the room as she was reading her _'Advice from a Young Lady' _for her sister Cassandra. His arrogant and debonair bearing had instantly stirred her internal harmony. Now, as Jane was reading the passages with suppressed memories, she glanced up to catch a glimpse of Tom Lefroy observing her reading. At that moment, she knew that the amber, if not fire, was still there between them.

'_They were gradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly and deeply in love. It would be difficult to say which had seen highest perfection in the other, or which had been the happiest; she, in receiving his declarations and proposals, or he in having them accepted.'_

The balls, the dances. Such sociable and grand events, yet she thought only of him, searched only for him. The feckless and arrogant young Irish rogue who had interrupted her reading…and her life.

Such beauty and opportunity, yet he sought only her, desired only her. They were surrounded by the world yet only saw each other. The outspoken Hampshire girl with ink marks on her fingers, the fine young lady who was always ready to counteract his opinions.

He would never forget the look on her face, the stars in her eyes, when he grasped her hands, sensitively but firmly, during _that_ dance. He saved her from the boredom of poor Mr. Wisley. Such a sudden blossom in her, from despair and wilting to delight and happiness. From dismay to love. And at that moment, as he took her by the hand, floating around other couples, as she looked him in the eye and her bright eyes spoke of a thousand words…he knew that she loved him. O Lord, how he loved her so. How he wanted her so.

'_Captain Wentworth had no fortune. He had been lucky in his profession, but spending freely, what had come freely, had realized nothing. … Such confidence, powerful in its own warmth, and bewitching in the wit which often expressed it, must have been enough for Anne.'_

She had been standing idly by the pond in the rose garden, contemplating her future as a well-educated young woman without significant possessions when he approached her. He expressed his utter distress, 'How can you of all people dispose of yourself without affection?' of which she replied with 'How can I dispose of myself with it? You are to leave tomorrow.'

And they kissed. Slowly. Lovingly. The memory of that kiss would linger in their minds and their hearts for the rest of their lives.

'_A few months had seen the beginning and the end of their acquaintance; but not with a few months ended Anne's share of suffering from it. Her attachment and regrets had, for a long time, clouded every enjoyment of youth; and an early loss of bloom and spirits had been their lasting effect.'_

Jane remembered the letter she discovered falling from Tom's wallet. Was it fate? She had read the letter and learned of his duty to his Irish family; how he had always sent a significant amount of his allowance to his mother, and how his family would suffer without this generosity. Back to reality, Jane could not bear to read further, and asked Henry to read the next passage. As she passed the manuscript to her brother, she focussed on Tom, realising that he had been pondering similar thoughts. She caught the look on his still handsome countenance, and she remembered how he had been immensely hurt and deeply saddened when she had left him that day, despite the fact that she had done so to protect his family from deprivation.

'_More than seven years were gone since this little history of sorrowful interest had reached its close; and time had softened down much, perhaps nearly all of peculiar attachment to him, - but she had been too dependant on time alone; no aid had been given in change of place, (except in one visit to Bath soon after the rupture,) or in any novelty or enlargement of society. – No one had ever come within the Kellynch circle, who could bear a comparison with Frederick Wentworth, as he stood in her memory.' _

Her thoughts wandered; she remembered a marriage proposal from poor Mr. Bigg-Wither, the very proposal she had accepted and declined in just two days. Harris had been a very decent, agreeable gentleman. Yet, she could not bear the thought of marrying anyone without affection, anyone who was not Tom Lefroy. She looked at him and could not help but wonder if he had once learned of Bigg-Wither's proposal and, if so, what he had felt about it.

Tom captured the look in her deep eyes as he stole a glance at her; his heart sank. Had time reversed and given them another chance, could they make different choices? Would he be able to convince her that he could not live peacefully without her? Survive he would. Successful, he had. But be happy? He was not so sure. He was certain, however, that for over half of his life he had felt an internal comfort, entirely a result of his love for this woman in front of him, 'his' Jane Austen. He had reached this realisation at the opera house in London last year when he was so proud to introduce to her his own Jane Lefroy, his first daughter and an avid fan of Miss Austen. Since then Tom Lefroy had found no opportunity to express how delighted he had felt that day to be in Jane's company once more and to introduce her to his beloved daughter, a very special part of him that he had longed for Miss Austen to share. And, most importantly, he had not been able to disclose his true feelings, feelings for her that had remained constant and relentless since their first meeting in the woods of Hampshire all those years ago.

'…_she felt that were any young person, in similar circumstances, to apply to her for counsel, they would never receive any of such certain immediate wretchedness, such uncertain future good. – She was persuaded that under every disadvantage of disapprobation at home, and every anxiety attending his profession, all their probable fears, delays and disappointments, she should yet have been a happier woman in maintaining the engagement, than she had been in the sacrifice of it…'_

Jane's thoughts were also straying. Would she have made a different decision? Jane pondered the thought as she resumed reading her manuscript. Would she have taken his hand in that tavern and resumed their elopement? Or… had their families shown a shred of support, just a single shred of comfort, could they have preserved their relationship, against all odds? Against tradition?

'_How eloquent could Anne Elliot have been, - how eloquent, at least, were her wishes on the side of early warm attachment, and a cheerful confidence in futurity, against that over-anxious caution which seems to insult exertion and distrust Providence! – She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older – the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning.'_

_Jane…._Tom Lefroy let his mind wander around as he listened to the famous author reciting her own lines. She had chosen the path of a spinster on her own volition. She had opted to remain unmarried but on what advantage. She had shown such strength uncommon for women of her age then. Consequently, she had managed to express a different kind of beauty, a gentle inner beauty complimenting such strong assurance… yet she remained so out of reach, that he could admire but only from afar.

-xxx-

_Author's note:_

_It's not finished yet! Click chapter 2 to read the next section… _


	2. Persuaded Confession

**Countenance So Beloved**

**By: Icha**

**Rate: K**

_Summary:_

_A few weeks before Jane Austen's death, she received a visitor from her past. SPOILERS and deliberate spin-off from 'Becoming Jane'. Notable gratitude for Rachel Kingston for the great beta (I mean it. She's great! And this is her first beta attempt, imagine!). Sincere gratitude as well to the readers and reviewers!_

**Chapter 2. ****Persuaded Confession**

The bells of Winchester Cathedral chimed three times. Its calming vibration reached Jane's chamber as she set aside her manuscript, where she, her brother and Tom Lefroy had enjoyed simple lunch together in Jane's room while alternately read some passages of her manuscript.

'That was indeed a beautiful piece, Sister.' Henry Austen shed a few tears as he spoke. He searched for his handkerchief while adding, 'I shall try my best to have it published soon.'

'And I depend on you, and only you, dear Brother,' said Jane lovingly as she caressed Henry's bearded cheek. Henry nodded several times and, after desperately trying to conceal his tears, murmured incoherently of his need to take some fresh air outside. Tom tapped his shoulder for support, but opted to stay behind. An air of awkwardness lingered as he turned and found Jane gazing at him thoughtfully. He shrugged, forced a smile and cleared his throat. Jane smiled as well.

'Well, what do you think of it, Mr. Lefroy? The manuscript, I mean,' asked Jane to the restless Tom Lefroy. He lifted his head without hesitation and looked her straight in the eye.

'One of the best of yours. Truly love the premise. It was –' the Irish lawyer paused to consider his words, '– taken from personal insights, I presume?'

At his comment, Jane lowered her sight and opted to observe the simple patterns of her dress instead. 'Would it be wrong if it is so?'

'I think it is very creative, Miss Austen,' Tom exclaimed, reaching for her cold hands and cupping them with his own. 'There are many things I like in this novel, but allow me to read one of my favourites.' Then, without waiting for the lady's permission, he took the manuscript and browsed the pages, all the while under Jane's amused look, until he found what he was looking for. 'Ah, here; allow me to read it once more.'

'Be my guest,' said she as she leaned back on her pillow. She closed her eyes in the hope of controlling a particular two-decades-old memory of Tom reading her a piece of 'Hampshire natural history' in utmost intensity that had made her blush. She fluttered her eyes open and whispered, 'Ready when you are, Mr. Lefroy.'

Tom glanced at her and, after smiling inwardly, read,

'…_there could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved…'_ He lifted his face and said, 'Beautiful, Miss Austen. Very beautiful indeed.' And, upon the lady's blushing, he added, 'Though I must beg to disagree with the following sentences, _'Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement'_.' Tom Lefroy set the papers aside and gravely spoke, 'It is not befitting.'

'How so?' asked Jane, her eyebrows arched in curiosity. 'It is the reality for Anne and Frederick.'

'Perhaps, in your premise,' answered Tom. He paused before carefully resuming, 'But not in _your_ reality, Jane. Not for you.'

Jane felt a lump in her throat that caused her slight breathing difficulty. She did her utmost to remain calm while summoning the cohesion of her inner strength. 'I do not see the discrepancy, Mr. Lefroy. After all, are we not –'

'Worse than strangers?' Tom's blue eyes scrutinised Jane's dark eyes. 'Do you truly think of us in such a fashion?'

Jane turned away. 'Mr. Lefroy … we have only re-acquainted ourselves last year. In London, should you forget it already,' she added hastily, to which Tom riposted with, 'Never in a day I forgot. Not you. Not us.' Jane blinked and continued, 'But…things were different then, and now. Many things have changed.'

'Indeed, many things changed,' agreed Tom. 'My reputation has changed – or dare I say is better than when we met in London last year. And of course, has withheld considerable development in comparison to twenty years ago…when in Hampshire we –'

'Tom, please,' she interrupted. 'Let us not revisit the past, shall we?'

'But we should, Jane. We should…' he insisted, despite his relief that they finally dropped the formalities. 'At least, I should. For there are things I have wanted to express since I met you in London, but was not possible under such circumstances.'

'Would it make any differences?' she asked, her tears welling in her eyes. 'Would it, Mr. Lefroy?'

Tom Lefroy sighed. He leaned back, observing the frail yet headstrong writer in front of him. She coughed a few times, but not violent enough for Tom to call for nurse's assistance. He helped her with some water and fixed her pillows and blanket. He made sure that she was considerably comfortable before carefully resuming,

'Would it make a difference? Yes, Jane. To me, it would make a difference. For I may never have the opportunity to speak of it ever again.'

'Tom –' Jane looked him in the eye, attempting to discover a glimpse of deceit in his clear blue eyes, yet she found nothing except a truth she trusted. She sighed, balanced her tranquillity and calmly stated, 'I am dying, Tom. The doctors do not wish to tell me that. Henry refused to face the truth… that my end is nigh. Yet… I duly accept. And what I wish, what I hope for now is… just to leave in peace.' She paused to observe the desperation on Tom's handsome countenance, the countenance she loved so intensely. Her heart sank. 'At least…I have finished the novel.'

It took him a few moments before Tom regained his composure and tenderly smiled upon her. 'Yes, the novel. Such a masterpiece, I should say. My daughter will love it for sure.' This comment received a smile from Jane. More resolute, he resumed, 'And Jane, I beg you not to think that my heart does not dread the possibility of not seeing you again, of no longer hearing of your news… I –' he sighed and summoned his strength. 'I understand your condition, Jane. It is terminal. And that was exactly why I had to come here and express my true feelings to you. While I can.'

Jane required a few minutes of silence. She wanted to, needed to, find the right words. Thos situation had played countless times in her mind yet now, when it mattered, she was mute. Almost inaudibly, she whispered, 'Tom…Truly, Tom… I know not what to say…'

'You need not saying anything, Jane. Not now, at least.' Suddenly Tom Lefroy rose, took a few paces backwards as if to give him strength. He then sighed, ran his fingers through his grey hair, and observed the delicate, yet headstrong lady in front of him.

'Jane…dear Jane…I must inform you that I have no expectation whatsoever in telling you what I am about to tell you. I just – I just have to… Jane… to convey my…' slowly he approached her. Then, solemnly, he took her frail hands and knelt by her side.

'I just need to tell you that not a moment passed, not a single day went by, without thinking of you. Not before that day we parted, and not after. I could not –' he faltered, clenched his jaws and regained his composure. 'I could not forget your beautiful smiles, the liveliness of your eyes when you voiced your opinions, your merry laughter…' He sighed, smiled and gently caressed her hands in an attempt to hide his nervousness. He then looked up; his blue eyes converged on her dark eyes. 'I could not forget you, Jane Austen. And despite my understanding, my very awareness that this confession might be improper… I just want to confess that… I love you.' He paused, stared at the ceiling and blinked back his tears. 'God forgive me, but I do still love you. And I will always love you to the depth of my heart.'

If God wished to take her life now, Jane Austen would not show any objections at all. She had never dared to hope for this very moment, when the love of her life reappeared right in front of her just to confess his eternal love; and certainly not the very least when her health was reaching critical condition. She studied the hands that held hers; hands that spoke life experience and age, as did hers. Yet, they were the very same hands that held her and asked her to dance, the very same hands that held her tight, begging her not to leave him. She gazed directly at him, searching his eyes and found the same compassion, the same love, the same longing that she had found more than two decades ago in Lady Gresham's rose garden. 'I'm yours!' he had said then. 'I'm yours Jane, heart and soul! No matter what!' And she recalled fondly how his beautiful eyes sparkled so intensely, so lively. Never had she seen his eyes as fiery as that night, when he spoke of their love.

She acknowledged that it was not the same fire or passion that they used to share. Instead, the feeling had developed into a more suffocating love, an overwhelming desire that was mature and gentle in form. A love that accepts, understands and gives instead of takes.

Mixed emotions attacked her from all directions; Jane still did not know what to say. She contemplated saying something as beautiful as 'I have always been in love with you as well'. Yet, when she spoke, this was not what she said.

'So… it took you more than twenty years to realise such simple a fact, Mr. Lefroy?' Her eyes twinkled as she spoke. 'I was expecting better deductions from a prominent lawyer such as you are.'

Surprised, Tom withdrew his hands. He then found Jane blinking her eyes several times: she was crying and smiling simultaneously. Jane Austen shared a jest with him! The intelligent and humorous Jane Austen he was still madly in love with. He blinked as well and felt tears welling in his eyes. He tenderly sat next to her and gave a small, yet merry, laughter, all the while tears flowing down his cheeks.

'The same old Jane. Such persistence!' he chuckled. 'Such… impertinence!'

His last line just hit Jane so forcefully as she remembered one of the first letters she wrote to Cassandra about Tom Lefroy. At such initial stage, she had regarded Tom as 'the most disagreeable, insolent, arrogant, impertinent of men'. How wrong she had been. She smiled and joined the banter.

'Now be sincere Mr. Lefroy; did you not admire me for my impertinence?'

'For the liveliness of your mind, I did,' answered Tom without dropping his smile, upon which Jane replied with, 'It is very nice to learn that you read my novel, Mr. Lefroy.' Tom paused before saying, 'Actually Miss Austen, I read all of your novels. My daughter and I have a ritual of discussing your books every weekend, or during any of my leisure time.'

She felt herself glowing. 'How… very kind of you…'

'We are just doing justice to your excellent works, Miss Austen. Now, what say you?'

Jane arched her eyebrow in wonder. 'Of your recent statement? Mr. Lefroy, need you ask still?' She slowly resumed, 'We both are old now, Tom. But should you need proof of my feelings, what you have to do was just to re-read my novels. And you will find our story hidden behind those lines, those words… those characters. I left you that day in the tavern, Tom. But…' she lowered her sight. '– I did not leave my heart behind. You never left my heart either, not for a single moment.'

Suddenly, Jane coughed several times. Tom urged her to call Martha, but she persistently dismissed the notion. She had to finish what she had started. Thus, drinking the water Tom provided, she spoke again.

'If you truly wish to know, Tom … I have never stopped loving you. Not a day has passed since I left you without my thinking of you.' She took her manuscript and caressed it lovingly, longingly. 'Hence, the novels. I honestly doubt the production of such novels if I had not had my heart broken. In a way, it might have been for the better good.'

'Is that what you think of us? That our separation was useful for your productivity?'

'In a way. I must see it this way. I persuaded myself to see that good can come from such loss.' She paused and set aside her manuscript. 'Do you… not think so? At least partially?'

Tom, who was sitting on a chair he had positioned next to Jane's bed, did not reply at once. He looked down at the immaculate floor before surreptitiously nodding, 'I suppose… I always remind myself that I have beautiful daughters, handsome sons… a lovely wife…a good career…everything a man should ever dream of.'

'And it is…a beautiful life, is it not?' Jane's firm voice betrayed her own feelings. Tom would have been forgiven not to detect it, but he had. He detected the irony.

'A beautiful life, indeed,' he agreed. 'But also an ironic one. Deep inside, I knew that I had a large piece of myself missing… with you… in Hampshire…' He looked straight at Jane, and upon detecting her tears, realised that he could not have spoken a more solid truth. 'My daughter Jane helped me fill the void in my life. She was… as lively as any daughter I could ever dream of. She loves poetry and reading… she is like you. When I met Henry in London last year, he informed me of your presence in the capital, and your daily schedules. I organised to take Jane to enjoy the soprano performance. I knew that you would be there and I knew that she would have not forgiven me if I spoke with the famous Jane Austen alone without taking her.' He smiled, almost inwardly. 'I made a proper choice; she would not stop talking about you for days afterwards.'

'She is such a lovely young lady,' Jane reminisced about the day she had met the young Jane; the day she read for the young girl while her father watched from a distance. 'Do give my regards to her. I shall miss her.'

Tom clenched his jaws to prevent him openly objecting to Jane's statement but to no avail. 'We know not of what will happen, Jane. Who knows that I might take her to visit you during my next visit to England?'

She looked at him in the eye and responded cautiously, 'And when will that be?'

His heart sank. '…About a month from now…'

Jane smiled solemnly. 'We both know Tom, that I might not have the luxury to wait that long…'

'Jane –'

'Tom. Mr. Lefroy. Please.' Jane reached out for his hand, in which he gave heartedly. 'I have almost nothing to regret in this life. Of course, I often wondered how it would feel to live my life with you –'

'Hence the novels.'

She nodded. 'Yes, where my characters eventually triumphed and had everything their hearts desired. But, in all honesty, sitting here next to you in such a serene place…' Tentatively, she extended her frail hand to reach for Tom's wrinkled cheek. '– it is already immensely beautiful, I could not ask for a better ending to my life.'

'Jane –' he could not help shedding the tears, for from such a short distance he could detect the pungent scent of medicines she always took. Jane Austen was ill. Indeed, she was terminally ill. He trembled as he begged, 'Please, do not –'

'Speak of it? Yet you are familiar with the essence of irony: bringing together contradictory truth to find similarities in them. To find beauty in them. And to face them –' she felt her voice faltered; she was threatened with tears as well. Yet she managed to form a smile. '– with a smile. A loving smile.'

Tom Lefroy was by now reduced to sobbing helplessly. Jane wanted to embrace him and be able to tell him that everything was going to be alright, but she could not. She understood the fragility of her own health. She might leave the world soon, and he would be forced to walk alone once more. She could not offer any false hopes. It was not a question of decency, but rather of compassion.

Yet, this inaction did nothing to sooth her own soul. She finally reached for him and, slowly and tenderly, encouraged him to move closer to her. Such physical closeness created a sense of relief for both of them, a connectedness that they did not want to destroy. Silently, both of them let out their tears.

After time, Tom regained his composure. He retrieved his handkerchief, cleaned his face and smiled nervously. 'I thought I was too old for this.'

'You are, indeed you are,' smiled Jane with intense fondness despite her damp eyes. 'But that was one of things I always loved about you, your ability to express your feelings in such a way.'

'That was also the very reason that directed your madness towards me,' Tom managed a chuckle. 'Indeed, you found me so disagreeable in the first place.'

'Could not be closer to the truth,' Jane agreed. 'The most disagreeable, insolent, arrogant, impertinent of men.'

Tom chuckled again. 'Did you write that somewhere in your novels?'

'No,' she smiled. 'In a letter to my sister Cassandra. I am afraid the letter may be lost by now…'

'That would be a misfortune indeed…' pondered Tom. 'But my dear Jane, at least I have disclosed my true feelings for you. They have been suppressed for a very long time and I am feeling much better now.' He felt his heart flooded with comfort as Jane produced a knowing smile, she felt the same. 'Despite the certainty that there will be no possibility of a positive outcome as the result of this confession…'

'Oh, I would not say so, Mr. Lefroy,' Jane argued gently. 'To me, it is indeed a wonderful thought to realize that you are always thinking of me… You have made it easier for me to leave the world peacefully.'

Jane's calm vocal tone whilst she spoke such final words made Tom shook his head. 'You are such… such a pertinent soul, are you not, Miss Austen?'

'Evidently, Mr. Lefroy,' she nodded fondly. 'Evidently.'

With confidence, Tom offered, 'This is yet another foolish question I would like to ask, but if I may…before I depart, enquire just one?'

'Are you leaving now?' Jane could not hide the disappointment in her voice.

'I have to reach Southampton by afternoon the morrow,' he explained. 'I have stayed in nearby Fleet last night from London, I cannot afford more delays. Besides, I do not think it wise for me to stay longer…' he pursed his lips, '– on the risk of staying forever.'

Jane looked up in surprise. 'I do not think you would. Your reputation for one is –'

Tom Lefroy shook his head. 'It is not about reputation, Miss Austen. It is about letting go. If I stay longer…'

She understood. 'It would be harder to leave and face the future.'

'It is not that I wish not to –'

'I understand, Mr. Lefroy. I do.' She smiled heartedly before resuming, 'Now… what was your last question?'

Tom had admired Jane for her liveliness and unwavering charm. Now, he realised that he also admired her for her acceptance. Their banters for the last few minutes, as well as her caring tones despite her calling him 'Mr. Lefroy' had been strong evident. She loved him, had always loved him, yet could not be with him. He loved her, had always loved her, yet unfortunate circumstances had severed any chance for them to share their lives. Still, although gravely unjust, she accepted the truth gracefully.

'Well…I was just pondering a childish question of…' he tilted his head as Jane quirked. 'Of whether you ever pondered… resuming the elopement.' He blushed. 'Or at least, stayed to maintain our relationship.' Upon Jane's cryptic response, he hastily added, 'Of course, as I said, this is just a childish question. You do not have to –'

'But I did,' was her interruption. 'I did, and at the same time: I did not.' Upon his questioning stare, she added, 'I of course occasionally thought of other possibilities. Of my resuming our elopement. Of you insisting for me stay, of things I may have agreed. Many possibilities have passed through my mind over the years.'

'But?'

'But, I honestly do not know. I suppose, I would still consider leaving our families behind as an improper choice, given the situation. Being a sensible woman, I could not possibly leave our families, especially yours, like that. But –' she raised her hand to prevent his reaction, '– there was another option that I have frequently deliberated upon.'

'Would you…care to enlighten me?' his blue eyes begged for explanation.

She looked at him and let herself drift to the past. 'I was thinking…of things such as… cancelling the elopement, but returning to Hampshire together. We would then have strived to convince both my parents and your uncle, persistently defending our love for each other. One of my characters, Elizabeth Bennet, dared to stand up against the one woman who stood in her way. I believe that this was my way to achieve one of my personal desires; to be able to stand up against your uncle… to defend our love.'

Tom considered her words. 'It was a wiser choice, I agree. I have been a fool, dear Jane, a real fool. But it was too late as well, was it not?'

She shook her head. 'Does it matter if it was too late, Tom? I grew up in my love for you. I became who I am now because of my love for you. In essence…our love is never a failure. And –' she gazed fondly at his blue eyes, 'You are no fool, Mr. Lefroy. Perhaps in your youth, but not now. You have been a great father, a loving husband and a good lawyer. Foolishness, you have left behind.'

'But not love, Jane. I never left behind my love… for you.'

Jane Austen glowed from within. 'Yes, not love. Thank you, Tom.' She let him gather her hands in his and kiss them so gently, so lovingly. She momentarily closed her eyes to absorb the feelings before fluttering her eyes open. They shared gentle affectionate looks for what seemed to them, to last a life time.

Moments later, Jane peered out of the window and, with apprehension, asked. 'I understand that it is time for you to leave?'

A pause before he said in a half-hearted manner, 'Yes. Not that I would very much like to.'

'Not that I would very much like the idea, either. But you have your duties, Mr. Lefroy. And I –' her lips formed a gentle smile, '– have my stories.'

In response, Tom asked, 'Would you write one for me, Miss Austen? The way you wrote Emma for Prince Regent? You do not have to cite me.'

'Oh, but I have. Hidden everywhere in my novels, as well here –' she gently touched her manuscript, '– are pieces of you. You just have to look, and you shall see.'

He beamed in happiness. 'What is to be the title of this manuscript? I understood that it is yet titled.'

She frowned. 'I am not sure. It's been a question lingering in my head as of late. I was thinking of using their family name…'

'I beg to differ, Miss Austen, but do you not think it too…ordinary?' Tom queried. 'After all, the novel contains such intense persuasions… one would want a more excited title than that.'

Jane smiled knowingly. 'I like your idea, Mr. Lefroy. I shall think of a title more persuasive then.' She lifted her head upon hearing a knock on her door and gave her consent. Henry and Cassandra Austen entered the room, both striving to conceal their absolute joy for they both knew that their sister was happy. Knowing looks were exchanged and Jane instantly knew that her siblings had overheard her conversations with Mr. Lefroy, but she could not care less.

'Henry, Cassandra… do come in. Sister, how timely it is of you to return before Mr. Lefroy leaves for Southampton.'

Tom Lefroy and Cassandra Austen formally acknowledged each other, upon which Cassandra asked, 'How nice for you to visit, Mr. Lefroy. Would you like some tea before you leave? Do you not think it appropriate, Jane?'

Jane Austen looked fondly at Tom Lefroy as she spoke, 'Oh, I dare not to suggest, Cassandra. Might we ask Mr. Lefroy himself?'

'I am expected in Southampton the morrow, Miss Cassandra. But dare I say –' he returned Jane's loving gaze with gentle smile, '– a simple Irish lawyer such as I am dare not refuse a cup of tea with the legendary Jane Austen.'

-FIN-

_Author's note:_

_Special thanks to Mandy-Pand__y, Little-Birdy and friends at the Becoming Jane message board for their supports! Oh, and I made several additions after Rachel finished the beta, so any grammatical errors and other mistakes found here are entirely mine._

_Many dialogs and scenes here were inspired either by Jane Austen's novels or 'Becoming Jane' the movie. I herewith acknowledge again the brilliant ideas of Director Julian Jarrold, script writers Kevin Hood and Sarah Williams, as well as beautiful performances of Anne Hathaway, James McAvoy, Dame Maggie Smith, Julie Walters, and all other casts and crews. _

_Jane Austen finished __her last novel 'Persuasion' in 1816, yet she did not have the chance to name the manuscript. Jane died on 18 July 1817 in Winchester, at the age of 41. Before she died, she asked that her sister Cassandra destroyed her remaining letters for no apparent reasons. 'Persuasion' was published for the first time in 1818, a year after her death. Almost two hundred years later in 1998, her last unfinished novel 'Sanditon' was published after being finished by 'Another Lady'. I have yet to read it, but I shall._

_Thomas Lefroy did name his eldest daughter 'Jane'. __In 1852, he was elected as the __Lord High Justice of Ireland.__ Outliving Jane half a century, Tom died on 8 May 1869 at the age of 93. Before he died, when he was asked of the love of his life, he replied with 'Jane Austen, in a boyish way' (Quote from James McAvoy, BBC interview, March 2007). _


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